


Pizza and Tacos

by paintedbyfuckall



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental pants pooping, Comforting Castiel, Kink Fic, M/M, Scat, Scat kink, Sweet Ending, poop, pooping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 16:31:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8497375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintedbyfuckall/pseuds/paintedbyfuckall
Summary: Dean is staying up as an excuse to be with Cas. He will do anything to prevent having to leave. Maybe a little too much.





	

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING, IF YOU DIDN'T ALREADY SEE:
> 
> Poop. Pooping. Dean, pooping. Yes, I know that's gross. But I've seen and done much worse and there's people out there into much worse too like those people who eat shit for example or rub it all over themselves.
> 
> Be grateful I'm not into that and only read if you're into this kink. If not leave right now.

It’d taken years, but Dean Winchester was finally happy.

Sam was in his bedroom, doing whatever it was Sam does while in his bedroom.

And his mom was in _her_ bedroom, hopefully getting some sleep.

Which left … Cas.

Cas was sitting across from him, casually reading a large volume in a language neither Sam nor Dean could understand, looking completely immersed in it giving the occasional light smile that made Dean think it wasn’t exactly a book on lore.

But Dean … was uncomfortable.

He’d been sitting here for two hours. He was tired and his computer screen was making his head throb and the lighting seemed to be a funny color. He was staring at a webpage of used vintage cars from around the 60s-80s and admiring them, which he sometimes liked to do when he was _really_ bored, imagining what it would be like if he were to own them all and get to admire them in person like some kind of car miser with prizes he wouldn’t let anyone drive or even touch, like Mr Burns from The Simpsons and all his money he refused to spend.

Aha. The Simpsons. Another thing he did when he was truly, truly, spectacularly board. He’d watch episodes online not-so-legally just because it was easy to watch and killed time. He contemplated doing it now but he didn’t want to disturb Cas with the noise and the thought of listening through anything through headphones made his head want to explode.

Ironic, because Dean thought his ass was going to explode, too.

Another reason he was uncomfortable was the hard chair and how his thighs were pressed against it in this position of being slightly bent forward with most of his ass not sitting solidly on the wood.

His reason for that was another reason he was uncomfortable; if he sat with his ass completely on the chair and one of the farts he was holding in slipped out, it would make some kind of weird noise against the wood and that was one thing he definitely didn’t want.

Cas was finally here, finally here and not in some kind of recovery state, finally here and present and casually sitting there reading across from him, and Dean was going to stay up and dignified as long as he could just to spend time with him, no matter how tired or bored he got.

Even if it meant suffering through the pain of holding up that dignity which the high amount of pie, pizza, tacos and a whole lot of greasy foods he’d eaten earlier were trying to take away from him. He wasn’t sure why he included pie on the list, it had only been his starter and hadn’t caused his pain. Maybe he just wanted to remind himself of how much he loved pie. He definitely hadn’t been dignified eating it, so he was glad Cas hadn’t been around for that. Cas had sauntered in during the pizza and tacos – a weird, but wonderful food combination which Dean had come up with – and Dean had considerably slowed down his wolfing of his food but still ate an enormous volume of grease.

Sam had noticed how Dean had slowed down. Sam had made some faces. Dean had ignored them as he always did, until Sam and _mom_ started exchanging some looks. That made him less than comfortable. So Dean had pretended he was full and he was glad he’d pretended that because another taco and he wouldn’t be keeping as much control as he was now, trying to stop his ass from exploding.

And failing, at times.

Tiny snippets of gas kept leaking out of Dean, silent, deadly and toxic, that Dean prayed and prayed and prayed Cas wouldn’t notice, but not _literally_ prayed because Cas could probably hear that.

Dean was never eating tacos with pizza again. Pizza in itself – all the cheese, all the toppings, all the marvelous grease – made him gassy for a few hours afterwards, although it was the tacos that added he heat and the stink. The warmth of what leaked out astounded him and it made him very aware that his toilet was going to suffer in the morning, or probably later tonight as it seemed to be.

But it was all and well. He could fight this. He could remain casual. He could sit here across from his angel, uh, _the_ angel and remain perfectly calm and collected and dignified and not let any gas make any louder appearances like the squeaky appearance it had made ironically at the time Dean decided he was safe to let it out and able to keep it silent.

Cas looked up. Dread flooded to the tips of Dean’s toes.

‘Chair,’ he replied, adjusting the chair and trying to make it make the same squeaky noise his fart had.

Cas seemed to buy it and buried himself once again in the book. Dean found himself wishing, as he often did, Cas would bury himself in _him_ instead. Although not right this minute … because his stomach was rumbling and he was fighting back another wave of gas and if he let that out, Cas would never bury himself in him at all.

He didn’t know why he thought he would anyway. Cas was an angel. Cas was an angel undamaged, unpossessed and lowkey highly intimidating sitting there across from him looking so intelligent as he read, and Dean was this pathetic little human trying not to stink up the place. As if Cas would ever want to be anything to do with that.

Dean was beginning to lose a battle he was so certain he could win. Another bubble of air escaped him, and this one popped on its way out, loud, its sound unique and exclusive to what was actually going on down in his pants.

‘Uh … chair?’ Dean offered when Cas glanced at him.

‘Dean, it’s fine,’ Castiel replied evenly in that deep, steady, gravelly voice of his that made everything he said sound serious. ‘You’re human. Humans pass gas.’

Dean swallowed nervously and gave a tight-lipped smile and a nod before taking his eyes away from Cas. He flashed them back up a moment later and saw Cas had gone back to reading. Dean went back to looking at the cars, a little less nervous now but no less uncomfortable and still wanting to keep his toxic action to a minimum if that were even possible.

Dean farted again and wanted to shove his head into a pile of sand.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered.

Cas didn’t say anything. Dean was grateful.

Dean wondered what time he’d finally give in and head to bed. Cas didn’t sleep; he’d be up all night, but Dean on the other hand … it was a little after midnight. What time was too late? One? Three? Or when he finally began to feel the need to shit after all this gas and left to go do that? Maybe the latter was the better option, because he knew that need would creep up on him soon, and he knew exactly what kind of shit it would be too. It would be the warm, almost hot, soft, orangey-brown kind that made him feel disgusted by his own body. He’d had them before, he knew the drill. He’d need to grab a can of air freshener before he went. He hoped they had some still in the bathroom he usually used.

Uncomfortable in his positon, Dean shifted his legs slightly which caused more gas to be released in a ripping sort of sound. Dean wondered if moving to Vermont and changing his name was a good idea. Cas, again, said nothing.

Cas’s silence … was calming. It made Dean feel less embarrassed. He figured, Cas had been human once, Cas knew the deal … right? It wasn’t like this was a completely foreign thing to Cas. And he’d said it was fine. So maybe if he just … let a little more out … to relieve the pressure … easy, easy …

He still tried to keep it as silent as possible, though there was nothing he could do about the stench. He allowed himself to fart, long and loud and began to feel a little better.

Cas looked up from his book.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

It wasn’t a serious question or whether Dean was okay or not. It sounded like he was genuinely worried that Dean had swallowed some helium and was about to explode.

‘Fine,’ Dean replied stiffly, stifling his gassy bout. ‘Tacos and pizza. Not a good combo.’

‘Then … why did you get them?’

‘Because they’re a great combo, man.’

‘But you just said –’

‘Taste wise,’ Dean clarified. ‘Side effects? Not so much.’

‘Side effects can be unpleasant,’ Castiel agreed unexpectedly, nodding with a heavy sigh. ‘Especially when you’re living on old nachos and taquitos no one bought that day.’

‘So you get it,’ Dean said hopefully, a little thrown by the direction this had taken. He could not, literally could not, imagine Cas suffering from having gas.

‘Yeah,’ Castiel agreed reasonably, ‘I get it. I would recommend some kind of air freshener later.’

‘Noted. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

Dean smiled, still tight-lipped, while allowing the next wave out more easily, giving a little push of encouragement to get it over with while still locking eyes with Cas, who was flashing him a friendly face with the ghost of a smile.

In retrospect, Dean really shouldn’t have pushed.

Okay, so Dean was no stranger to the occasional shart. He doubted anyone was.

But what hadn’t happened before was an entire soft mound making its way out of his ass, about the size of a relatively large apple, all in one with no strain.

Dean had just shit his pants while looking dead on into Cas’s eyes.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

Literally.

‘Silent ones,’ Dean said stiffly. ‘The worst, aren’t they?’

‘Not really,’ Castiel fathomed. ‘It really makes no difference. Silent ones just seem wore because those around you don’t know about or expect them.’

‘Fair point,’ Dean agreed. ‘I’m gonna get back to …’

He gestured his screen. Castiel nodded in understanding and looked back down at his book.

Dean stared at his screen with a mound of hot, steamy mush pressed right up against his ass cheeks and a mild cramp in his gut. It was fine. Cas would never know. He could sit here and then in a few minutes and then excuse himself to go to bathroom, say goodnight and add that he was going to bed right after and wouldn’t be back, no harm no foul.

He just had to sit here for a convincing number of minutes to make Cas think that lingering smell was just silent gas because surely there was no way Dean would sit there with his underwear full of shit just to avoid embarrassment, at least not to Cas’s knowledge.

Dean had never been so glad that he wasn’t a boxers kind of guy.

He wondered if he’d end up with some sort of rash, because his shit was burning him.

Dean felt a horrifying cramp and it jerked him to his feet and in that moment he was prepared to run off bent double to try and get to a toilet; Cas noticed and looked up, putting down his book when he noticed Dean wasn’t running off but rather had clutched the table, bent with pain, unable to move as more soft shit forced its way into his pants.

‘Dean,’ said Cas, walking around to put his hand on Dean’s arm. ‘Dean, are you okay?’

‘No,’ Dean groaned, paralyzed with pain, bending over farther as more semi-solid mush forced its way out, Dean just so grateful it wasn’t liquid. ‘Cas, go. Please. Go. I–  _shit_.’

Cas didn’t have time to leave before the pain was elevated and Dean could straighten up. The stench in the air was unmistakable, and just from the smell the heat of the load in Dean’s pants was obvious.

‘Dean,’ Castiel said quietly, his grip on Dean’s arm changing to something more gentle, ‘are you … okay?’

It seemed like such a weak question.

There was the sudden sound of footsteps heading towards the room they were in. Dean slammed his laptop closed and grabbed it, looking at Cas in a panic.

‘Help me,’ he whispered.

‘I’ll walk behind you,’ he promised. ‘Go. Quickly.’

Dean started walking with Cas close behind him. Dean felt sorry for the guy, back there, right where the stink was coming from. Maybe … maybe Cas didn’t need to be there. Maybe it was all good.

‘Is there … a bulge?’ Dean asked quietly.

‘No,’ Castiel replied, ‘but there’s a stain.’

‘Shit,’ Dean murmured.

‘Literally,’ Castiel agreed.

‘Not funny,’ Dean hissed.

‘It’s a little funny,’ Castiel insisted.

‘Not for m– hey, mom,’ Dean transitioned smoothly, as Mary came into view. He gave her an uneasy smile.

‘Dean,’ she smiled at him, then nodded at Cas and added, ‘Castiel. Where are you two off to?’

‘Plumbing in some of the rooms here aren’t so good,’ Dean lied, feeling guilty about the fact he was already lying to his mother, ‘smell that? Week old garbage. Cas is gonna help me fix it.’

‘Good luck,’ Mary smiled. ‘I’ll leave you two to it.’

Dean nodded, stiff, smiling. Cas gave a tight-lipped smile similar to Dean’s from earlier and nodded at her, the two of them passing by with no incident, staying silent until they got to the bathroom closest to Dean’s room.

‘Can you get me a trash bag from the kitchen?’ Dean requested when they got there. ‘And … some new underwear? And the clothes I sleep in? Those are under my pillow, underwear’s in a drawer.’

‘Of course,’ Castiel replied, putting a hand comfortingly on Dean’s arm.

‘Take this,’ Dean told him, handing over his laptop. ‘Cas, I’m so, so, sorry about this. Really, I am.’

‘It’s fine, Dean,’ Cas insisted. ‘Go … get clean. I’ll bring you everything you asked for.’

‘Knock three times quickly so I know it’s you and don’t accidentally answer the door to mom or Sam.’

‘Noted.’

Dean nodded, disappearing into the bathroom. He locked the door securely behind him.

He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks; bending was not a fun or very safe activity in loaded, messy pants. He then slowly and carefully removed his jeans and checked the back, where a brown stain had seeped through, wet and foul smelling, just in some places where his jeans had been touching his underwear, dirty, filthy, full of his own shit, forced out of him beyond his control in front of Castiel, angel of the lord, his best friend, the man he was secretly head over heels in love with.

He’d been thinking … they were finally there. He finally had everything that could make him happy, and maybe he could have Cas soon too but … after this he knew there was a fat chance of that happening despite Cas being so good about it. What sane person could ever see someone who shit their pants in front of them in that kind of light?

Dean looked at his own face in the mirror and wanted to punch it. He was an idiot, staying up later than he needed to just to be around Cas who wasn’t even paying attention to him anyway. He should have went to bed at the first flicker of tiredness, or excused himself at the first rumble in his guts. The sight of his own idiotic face, the stench of his own foul mess, all of it made him want to punch a wall.

A sharp three knocks on the door brought him back to reality and made him realize he was still wearing his underwear full of mush. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to take it off without it falling everywhere. Maybe while standing over the bag Cas was bringing him.

He answered the door and barely opened it, concealing himself behind it.

‘Thanks buddy,’ he grinned weakly, accepting everything from Cas.

‘Good luck,’ Castiel offered feebly, turning away and letting Dean close the door again.

Dean placed down everything Cas had bought him on the toilet lid, apart from the bag which he opened up and lay down on the floor underneath himself. He began to squat, hoping that the closer he was to the floor the easier it would be not to get shit everywhere, but he didn’t take into account the fact that he was tired and off balance and he squatted too fast and ended up falling back –

Onto his ass.

Shit was already smeared all over his cheeks, and now it was smeared across them even more and some had squelched its way down and then out of his leg bands, dripping on the bag under him. Defeated, he gave up, shoved down his disgusting, stinking underwear and let them and all the stuff he’d dumped out of him land with a _splat_ on the bag, smearing his legs with shit in the process.

He was glad his hands were clean so he could move his clean clothes away from the toilet. He then stripped his top half, grabbed some toilet paper and began removing the worst of the shit from himself, starting with his legs. When he got up to his ass he swore there was no end to it and it got on his hands here and there and attempting to prevent it from doing so was almost hopeless, so he wiped it off as best he could as he wiped off his ass, between his cheeks, around his hole, down to his taint and near his balls where it had spread.

Once he’d gotten off all he could with the paper, he started up the shower and began to scrub himself raw. He needed, he _ached_ to feel clean again, washing himself multiple times, his hands multiple times, the water scalding his skin but he didn’t care.

Once he felt clean again he got out and dried off, dressing for bed before he tackled the task of rolling up the bag with his destroyed underwear and shoving it to the bottom of the trash. He washed his hands again, doused the room in air freshener, especially the toilet, shower and trash, and braced himself to leave, set to climb into bed as soon as he reached his bedroom.

However, when he reached it, Castiel was sitting on his bed waiting for him and a shiver went up Dean’s spine.

‘Hey,’ Dean greeted, shutting the door behind him.

‘Hi,’ Castiel said, quiet, small, standing up. ‘Better?’

‘Showered so hard I can’t even feel anything from the waist down anymore,’ Dean joked with a chuckle that leaked the remains of his embarrassment. ‘You didn’t have to wait for me.’

‘I had nowhere else to be,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘I talked to your mother for a minute. Wandered around for a while. I even tried going to my old room, you know the one I was staying in when recovering from the spell Rowena cast on me last year, but … I realized I’d rather be here.’

‘So you can make fun of me?’ Dean asked, only half joking as he walked over to his bed.

‘No,’ Cas replied gently, placing his hand on Dean’s shoulder as Dean sat down, then Cas sat again when Dean gestured for him to do so. ‘I wanted to … see if you were okay.’

‘I’m fine, Cas,’ Dean promised. ‘But it’s good to have you here.’

Castiel smiled at him. Dean started to feel better about the night’s whole ordeal.

‘Could I … use your computer? I’ll take it and find a room to hide out in if you want. I’ll return it in the morning.’

‘Go ahead,’ Dean told him, gesturing it where Cas had left it. ‘No need to leave. Stay, hang out … there’s a chair,’ he added, pointing, ‘and I have a spare blanket if you want it. But stay.’

‘Alright.’ Castiel stood up again to grab Dean’s laptop and take it to the chair Dean had pointed out to him. ‘I’ll stay. I won’t need the light.’

Dean nodded, getting up to turn out the light. He went back over to his bed and climbed in, glancing at Cas in the darkness and feeling comfort in the fact that he was there, with him, whatever it was he was doing at the same time. He closed his eyes, ready for sleep.

‘I know you were only staying up because I was there.’

Dean opened his eyes and saw Cas looking right at him.

‘You do?’

‘I do,’ Castiel replied steadily. ‘I could see your tiredness. I could see your discomfort. I assumed you were doing something important but I think I realized it was all just an excuse when you asked me to stay just now. It’s understandable, you’ve been through a lot. Your mother. Your brother. God, Amara, almost dying …’

‘Yeah,’ Dean confirmed, his mouth dry. ‘Been through all that. And y’know, the fact that I just shit my pants. Real traumatizing ordeal.’

Castiel gave the tiniest of laughs as Dean tried to make light of the situation.

‘You should sleep,’ Castiel urged.

‘Yeah. Night,’ said Dean, closing his eyes again.

‘Goodnight. And Dean?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I’d shit my pants to stay around you, too.’


End file.
